Page 87 of How Sweet It Is

She waves a dismissive hand, already surveying the chaos. “Excuses, Claire. I’ve been telling you for years we have to step up our game. Did you even start on the bridesmaids’ bouquets?”

I stiffen. “Half the flowers I need weren’t ordered, and the other half were wilting. What did you do while I was gone?” I almost gasp at my audacity. I don’t talk to my mother that way.

“I worked my fingers to the bone,” she says, eyes narrowing. “And I did place those orders. You must’ve misunderstood. I assumed you’d step up, especially with all the free time you now have, what with losing your other job.”

My jaw drops. “I’ve been here every day since the trial. I’ve come early, and I’ve stayed late trying to get all of this back in order. Mom, why didn’t you keep up with flower rotation? You know how important that is.”

Her gaze sharpens. “Well, you left. What was I supposed to do? You’ve done that for years, and now it’s my fault things aren’t getting done? You’re the one who abandoned us. You need to deal with your own mess.”

My heart pounds, anger and pain tangling in my throat. “You meanyourmess. You’re the one who let the shop get like this. And now you’re acting like I’m the reason it’s falling apart? You didn’t want help. You wanted someone to blame when things went wrong.”

Her mouth flattens. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Wow. I cannot believe she’s blaming me for all of this. And all of a sudden, I see things clearly. Zoey is right. My mother doesn’tneed me. She’susing me. I take a breath and say it before I lose the nerve. “You’ve been controlling me. You made me think I was needed here, but the truth is, you just didn’t want to take responsibility. You’ve been using me.”

Her eyes narrow, lips pressed in a tight line. “You know who never talked to me like this? Natalie.”

There it is. The comparison. The knife she always keeps sharpened.

“You know, Natalie would have finished everything early. She wouldn’t complain. She handled her responsibilities with grace. She didn’t run away to an island every time things got hard.”

The words slice through me, just like they always do. But this time? This time, I see it for what it is—manipulation.

“I don’t need this right now, Mother. Just leave. I need to finish my work.”

My mother scoffs, reaching for the door. “Don’t forget the boutonnieres.”

She yanks the door open then lets it slam behind her like a gavel. I sag against the counter, heart racing. My fingers are still wrapped around the shears like they’re the only thing keeping me upright.

Then I grab my phone and call Natalie.

She answers on the second ring. “Hey. Everything okay?”

That’s appropriate. I never call her unless I have to, and I wonder now how much of the distance between us is my fault. I swallow. “Not really. I just had it out with Mom.”

A pause. “You had a fight with Mom? What about?”

“The shop,” I say quietly. “But that’s not why I’m calling. I think I finally see through her. I always thought you were the golden child, the one who had it all together. The one Mom praised and adored.”

A bitter laugh comes through the phone. “Me? The golden child? You were the golden child, Claire. You were the one with the perfect grades, sailing through school early. You were the one Mom praised and adored. Mom always told me to do better because of you.”

I blink back hot tears, finally seeing it. “She pitted us against each other.”

There’s a long silence. Then Natalie finally asks, “What?”

“Yeah. She was always telling me to do better, to be more like you.”

“No way. It was always, ‘Why can’t you be more focused, like Claire? Why can’t you get a good job, like Claire?’ I didn’t even want that presidential award. I was just trying to feel like I was enough.”

My throat grows tight. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I think I’m done being what she wants me to be,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be her puppet anymore.”

“Good,” Natalie says. “You should get away from her. It was the best thing I ever did.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to allow the bitterness in my voice. “I should.”

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